


My love for you is like Fereldan ale

by akadora



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Isabela tells it like it is, drunken broodiness of brood, snarky male Hawke gives out relationship advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3231587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akadora/pseuds/akadora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris could learn so much from Isabela: to relax a little, be a better friend, maybe even be a bit less broody in time. If only he didn't have to wrestle with all these confusing feelings towards the beautiful pirate, whose attitudes towards sex and love don't quite match his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My love for you is like Fereldan ale

Fenris downed another gulp of the watered-down horsepiss that passed for ale in the Hanged Man, shuddering as it went down. It tasted worse than any beverage he had ever had the misfortune of sampling, and frankly, that said a lot. He couldn’t take his eyes off the counter, where Isabela stood surrounded by male patrons in various states of drunkenness. She was talking to one, a smirk playing on her lips, a hand on one hip, the other one clutching at a dagger hidden from sight. Fenris couldn’t hear what they were saying, nor did he wish to. His free hand clenched into a fist under the table. _Don’t look over here._

Isabela gestured at Corff to pour her another drink. A mug of ale in hand, she turned around and leaned her back against the counter, scanning the bar as she sipped. Fenris’ back stiffened. _Don’t look over here._ Isabela ran her eyes along the far tables, her gaze stopping on Fenris’. He stifled a curse as Isabela strode over to his table in slow, purposeful steps and flopped down opposite from him.

“What’s new in Broodyville?” she asked chipperly. One look at Fenris’ face made her grin widen. “Dark and bitter, I take it. Like Fereldan ale.”

Fenris gave a grunt as a response and took another swig from his mug. Isabela studied him quietly for a time before leaning her forearms on the table and scooting closer to Fenris to peer at his eyes.

“Really, though, what’s eating you? I can tell something’s wrong, you know,” she said in a low voice.

Fenris turned his head, hiding his eyes behind his fringe so that Isabela couldn’t see. “And what’s it to you?” he growled.

Isabela crossed her arms above her chest. “I’m your friend, for a start. You know friends care about this sort of thing, right? I could teach you a thing or two about friendship for future reference.”

Fenris turned his head and glared at Isabela from under tightly-knit eyebrows. “ _My friend_?”

“Well, what else would I b-“ Isabela’s eyes went wide as the realization hit her. Gradually, a wicked smile spread on her lips. “Ah. So _that’s_ what this is about!” Isabela let out a hearty giggle. “Grow up,” she said playfully.

Fenris stared at Isabela, completely incredulous. The pirate crossed her legs and eyed the bar around her as the silence stretched. How could she sit there so nonchalantly? Fenris felt a momentary flash of rage and had to restrain himself from reaching his hand across the table and slapping her, or worse. Being angry felt good, familiar. The elf was used to it and knew it well. He much preferred it to the confusion some other feelings brought.

Fenris directed his gaze at the floor so as to avoid looking at Isabela. As he spoke, his words sounded strange to his own ears. The alcohol was as thin as used bathwater and twice as foul, but he’d downed enough of it for one night for that to have an effect on his speech. His shoulders shook slightly as he spit the words out as if they tasted as bad as the drink. “I’m the one at fault, then? Is that how you see it?”

Isabela sighed. “Look, Broody… I didn’t agree to marry you. I agreed to sleep with you. There’s a difference. I also made it very clear that I wouldn’t…”

“How can you stand to live like this?” Fenris interrupted, still staring at the floor, gripping his knees so tightly that the veins stood out on his skinny lyrium-ridden arms. “Loitering around in this pisshole, spreading your legs for thieves, fools and blighters?” Fenris looked up at Isabela, his eyes a study in barely repressed rage. “You’re a free woman. Don’t you have any dignity?”

The corner of Isabela’s upper lip curdled slightly. She leaned her chin on her hand and sighed. “Broody, you’re drunk.”

“Answer the question,” Fenris hissed from between clenched teeth.

Isabela put her hands on the table. “I’ll just say this: right now, I greatly prefer the company of thieves, fools and blighters to your drunken rage. My dignity has nothing to do with that.” She rose up and took one look over her shoulder at Fenris, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, love, but you aren’t exactly charming at the best of times, and right now… well, better go home and clear your head.”

Fenris looked at Isabela’s back, her swaying hips as she walked away and the clear outlines of her buttocks as they pressed against the hem of her shirt. Fenris slammed his mug hard on the table. He buried his face in his hands, muttering to himself under his breath. “ _Festis bei umo cana varum._ I am an idiot and a coward.”

Fenris could feel a faint hint of nausea climbing up his throat. He steadied his hand on the table, holding his throbbing head with the other one, and hauled himself up from the table.

...

Hawke barged in on Fenris just as the elf was opening a new bottle of Aggregio Pavali. It was a little bit vexing, but it hardly surprised Fenris that Hawke would suddenly materialize at his door. The man had the strangest habit of always turning up at the mansion just when Fenris had something on his mind. He would even have offered his friend a drink, but as things stood right now, he needed it all for himself.

“Hawke,” Fenris said flatly, not even glancing up from his bottle. “What brings you here?”

“Just checking up on my favourite elf. Well, my favourite mage-hating elf, that is.” Hawke grinned and walked up to Fenris. “Everything all right up here?”

Fenris snorted. He wordlessly indicated a wooden chair in front of the table for Hawke to sit in. Hawke pulled up the chair, turned it around and sat on it backwards, his legs on either side of the back of the chair. “I’m taking that as a ‘hell no’.”

“An astute observation,” Fenris commented dryly, pouring himself a glass.

Hawke decided to get straight to the point. “Is this about Isabela? I saw you looking at her the other day, and I got the feeling that-“

Fenris cut him off gruffly. “It’s not what you think it is.”

“Are you sure?” Hawke said, lifting his eyebrows. “Isabela can be quite a handful, I know. But you kids really need to play nice. If she’s offended you in any way…”

Fenris sighed, letting his shoulders slump. “It’s not that either.”

“Then what is it?” Hawke looked at the elf, concern in his eyes. When Fenris didn’t meet his gaze, the lines on Hawke’s forehead crinkled up in a frown. “Is it the flirting? You know she doesn’t mean anything by it. I can tell her to stop, if you’d like.”

Fenris groaned, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “No. No, don’t tell her anything. Just… don’t.” The elf released a sigh of resignation. He supposed he’d have to tell Hawke the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

“Isabela agreed to sleep with me,” Fenris said, straining to keep his voice steady, still avoiding Hawke’s gaze.

Hawke stared at Fenris’ anguished face, and he couldn’t stifle a laugh. That earned him a furious look from the elf, and he covered his mouth with his hand, still grinning.

“Is that all?” Hawke asked.. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Isabela makes that promise _very_ lightly. Maker’s breath, she’s likely bedded half of Kirkwall’s entire population, plus a few tourists.” Hawke chuckled. “Even I slept with her, once.”

Fenris’ sharp intake of breath cut the air like a sword. The elf suddenly found himself desperately hoping that he’d heard incorrectly. "You… _what?_ ”

Hawke had to chuckle again. Fenris’ shocked expression was just too priceless, a rare sight indeed. “Slept with Isabela. Since when is that groundbreaking news?”

Fenris threw the wine bottle hard on the far wall, where it shattered with a crash, leaving dripping purple stain across the fine tapestry. “ _Venhedis_. Then everyone has but me.”

“Not everyone, I suppose,” Hawke offered helpfully. “Aveline comes to mind. I’d be surprised if she’d slept with Isabela…” He made a pause, thinking about it. “…but not terribly shocked, I suppose. Anyway, didn’t you say she already agreed to sleep with you? Then what’s the problem?”

Fenris heaved a deep sigh. He would have to explain the whole thing. The humiliation of that felt almost as bad as the thing itself. “I refused.”

“And?”

“And that’s it. I refused. She made it clear before we even began that we wouldn’t… that there wouldn’t…” Fenris struggled to find the words. For the first time in ages – perhaps ever – he felt acutely embarrassed, and he only hoped it didn’t show too badly on his face. “She said that it would never be more than just that. Sex.” Fenris rested his forehead against his palm like an old man, weary of the world, swirling the wine around in his cup with his free hand. “I got scared and ran away like the fool I am.”

There was a brief silence, after which Hawke locked eyes with Fenris, suddenly serious. “So let me get this straight… are you in _love_? With _Isabela_?”

“No!” Fenris immediately snapped, as if by instinct. Immediately after, he paused to reconsider. “I truly hope not.”

Hawke smiled. “Only one way to find out, right?”

Hawke got up from his seat and stretched his legs. “Anyway, I should go. Time to head off to solve petty crime in the streets of Hightown. It was nice talking to you, Fenris.”

Fenris nodded curtly. “Likewise.”

At the door, Hawke turned around. “Go talk to her. That’s an order.”

...

As Fenris stepped in, his eyes immediately darted towards the front of the bar, looking for Isabela. And sure enough, there she sat. She was leaning in the counter, cup in hand, as usual. Thankfully, she wasn’t locked in a conversation with anyone at the moment. No time like the present, then. Fenris mentally steeled himself and walked up to her.

“Hi.”

Isabela turned around and looked at the approaching elf. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, eyebrows slightly raised, wary. “Have you sobered up yet?”

Fenris sat down next to Isabela. “Ah, yes. Yes, I have.” He looked at her straight into the eyes and tried to make his next words sound as apologetic as he could muster. “I’d like to apologise for my earlier behaviour. Buying you a drink would be a good start, no?”

Isabela giggled. “That’s a _great_ start.”

At least Isabela didn’t like to hold grudges. For that, Fenris was grateful. The corner of his mouth flickered upwards, forming the beginnings of a slight smile. “I’m glad.”

Fenris ordered a rum for Isabela and nothing for himself. For a time, he watched the pirate drink, racking his brain for something to say until she broke the silence for him.

“Have you reconsidered?” she asked suddenly, lifting her eyes from her cup.

He had. He had done little else since the night when he had walked away. But why was admitting that so blasted difficult? Fenris shifted his eyes away and decided to feign ignorance in order to buy some time. “Reconsidered what?”

Isabela laughed. “People don’t usually buy me drinks without expecting anything in return.” She gave an amused smile that reached all the way up to her eyes and made them glint with playfulness and mischief. “I might be willing to reciprocate, if you want.”

Fenris remained silent, still considering it. He didn’t want to end up making the biggest mistake of his life since following Danarius out of Seheron, but he knew he wouldn’t have any peace of mind unless he took her up on the offer. He glanced up at Isabela’s smiling face and envied the woman her carelessness.

“Come on,” the pirate said. “Just say yes, and then we’ll go. It doesn’t have to be any harder than that.”

Isabela’s cheeks were reddened from the alcohol, beautiful in the firelight, but her movements remained bold and controlled. Fenris envied her composure and the ease with which she conducted herself. He envied her, maybe even admired her. Maybe she was right. Maybe for once in his life, Fenris could afford to make things easy. He smiled at Isabela, uncertainty hidden behind false confidence. “Lead the way.”

Isabela rose and wound her arm around Fenris’ waist. The contact sent shivers along his spine and he thought he could feel the lyrium in his veins rise up to meet her touch.

She lead the way upstairs, and he followed.

...

Fenris lay in the bed in Isabela’s room, thinking about nothing in particular except the way the too-soft mattress set his spine in a slightly uncomfortable bent. He looked at the spiderwebs in the far corners of the room where the oil-lamp’s light didn’t reach. He didn’t feel regret, disappointment, satisfaction or joy. He didn’t feel any of those things.

Isabela turned towards him and smiled in that way she did. She smiled like that for everyone, though, not just for him. And that was just as well. “Did you like it?” she asked.

Fenris rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling. “Not really.”

 “ _Rude._ ” Though she tried hard to act offended, her smile only widened at that. “Next lesson: how to talk to girls. We’ll have to get to that soon.”

Fenris grunted, still studying the cracks in the ceiling like they were infinitely more fascinating than the conversation.

“So…” Fenris asked eventually. “What now?”

“Now, I expect we go wash up and then maybe sleep.”

Fenris’ eyebrows set into a frown. “You know what I meant.”

“My answer is still the same,” Isabela said. “We had sex, and that’s the end of that. Sometimes a fork is just a fork.”

Fenris climbed up into a sitting position, leaning on his elbows, and looked Isabela in the eyes. “How can you be so casual about it?”

“Well, how can you get so worked up about it? Things can be simple, or they can be complicated. Your choice.”

Fenris realized he’d been frowning again. He let the tension in his muscles relax, and released a deep breath. Maybe there really was some truth in what she was saying. It seemed to be working out well for her, at least. “I wish I could live like that,” Fenris said in a low voice.

“I can teach you about that, too. After all, I’m as helpful as they get.” Isabela grinned, offering her hand to Fenris. “Friends?”

The elf gripped the hand tightly and responded with a smile of his own. “Friends.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love Isabela a lot, so… yes, this happened. I don’t remember if she ever calls Fenris ‘Broody’, or if that’s just Varric, but Isabela using that nickname was an artistic liberty I wanted to take. Sorry about that, and a number of other things, haha! This is the first Dragon Age fic I’ve written and it’s been a while since I’ve played DA2, so don’t judge me… too much! I’ve played a lot of DA:I recently, however, and I’ve got some ideas, so feel free to expect more DA stuff, if you’re interested :D


End file.
